October272011

You can't believe how excited my four-year-old was at the arrival of this book last night. He read it this morning as he ate his breakfast, quiet as a stone, save for the occasional "daddy, look at this!" outburst.

October242011

“When do you go
“When the time is
“When is the time
“When it's a nice day, and I've finished my work, and I haven't just eaten, and I'm feeling
“Repeat that last sentence, changing ‘and’ to
“When it's a nice day, OR I've finished my work, OR I haven't just eaten, OR I'm feeling
“That sounds like a better

October062011

He looked old. Not old in a way that could be measured in years or even decades, but impossibly old. Not tired, but weary; not ill or unwell, but rather, somehow, ancient. But not his eyes. His eyes were young and bright, their weapons-grade intensity intact. His sweater was well-worn, his jeans frayed at the cuffs.